Home
by Micaiah
Summary: Tag to 11.04. The boys are bruised and battered and Baby has taken a beating but something is weighing heavily on Dean's mind and it's time to make things right.


**Tag to 11.04, Baby. I absolutely loved this episode.**

* * *

 _It's been a long hard ride_

 _Got a ways to go_

 _But this is still the place_

 _That we all call home_

They'd only been driving for a couple of hours when Dean's eyes began to grow heavy. He was exhausted, his body ached and the bite mark on his neck was throbbing in perfect harmony with the beat of his heart. He gave the wound an aggravated swipe and immediately regretted it as he blew out a sharp breath between his teeth.

"You okay?" asked Sam.

"I'm fine. Just trying to stay awake."

"Yeah, well, I'm not sure how much longer I can do that myself." Sam yawned. "We should stop somewhere for the night."

"No way am I leaving Baby alone in the shape she's in."

"I know, Dean." Sam consulted his phone. "Looks like there's a gas station a few miles from here. We can fill up the car, get some supplies and find somewhere to park for the night."

"Sounds like a plan."

"We should probably clean up first."

"Why?" Taking a shower was the furthest thing from Dean's mind. He just wanted to sleep for days.

"Have you looked in the mirror? I think if we walk into a gas station looking like this we might get some unwanted attention."

Dean tilted the cracked rearview mirror toward him and in the fading sunlight he caught a quick glimpse of his bloodied face before the mirror fell off in his hand.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean tossed the mirror into the backseat. "I'm sorry, Baby. I promise I'll take care of you when we get to the bunker. Just hang in there a little longer." He gave the dashboard a loving caress.

"Should I leave you two alone tonight?" Sam grinned.

"I don't care what you do. I'm gonna sleep like the dead."

"Hey, pull over up here." Sam motioned to the side of the road and Dean pulled into a small picnic area situated next to a slow moving stream. The place was deserted except for a couple of raccoons who were washing something in the stream. When the Impala's headlights exposed them, they grabbed their supper and scampered off into the adjacent woods.

Dean groaned as he unfolded himself from behind the wheel. There were some days when he thought he was getting too old for this shit. Today was one of those days. He was pretty sure there wasn't a bone in his body that didn't ache. He shed his jacket, tossing it into the backseat of the car, and shuffled over to the stream, kneeling beside it. As he dunked his head into the water, the icy coldness took his breath, but as it washed over his wounds, it was also a relief.

When he finally pulled his sodden head from the stream, Sam was there, holding a towel out to him, his own hair dripping water down his face. Dean took the offered towel and then grasped his brother's hand as Sam helped him to his feet. The first aid kit was sitting on one of the picnic tables and Sam motioned for Dean to sit down.

"Dude, I'm fine." Dean rubbed the towel over his wet head, grimacing as it raked past the wound on his neck.

"Fine, huh?" Sam reached into the first aid kit, pulling out a bottle of alcohol.

"What about you? You're still limping."

"I twisted my foot. It'll be okay in a day or two." Sam doused a ball of cotton with alcohol and pulled Dean's shirt away from his neck. "Dean, what the hell is this? Did someone bite you?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, Mrs. Markham got me pretty good."

"Why didn't you say anything? You should have let me clean this miles ago!" Sam dabbed at Dean's neck with the cotton ball and Dean sucked his breath in.

"It's no big deal," said Dean between clenched teeth.

"Uh, huh. Sure." Sam's brow furrowed as he frowned at the wound. He tossed the cotton ball aside and rummaged inside the Impala, pulling out Dean's whiskey flask. Dean started to protest as Sam twisted off the lid but when the whiskey hit his wound, coherent words left him.

"SON OF A BITCH!"

Dean gritted his teeth as Sam finished dressing the wound, the burning subsiding into a dull ache. Sam handed his brother the aspirin bottle and Dean swallowed four, chasing them with the last sip of whiskey from his flask. Sam gently cleaned the other wounds on Dean's face and stood back admiring his handiwork in the glow of the Impala's headlights.

"I'm not a freaking art project. Quit looking at me like that." Dean scowled.

"I'm just making sure I got everything. You're not hiding anything else, are you?" Sam was grinning but Dean bristled at his words.

"I wasn't hiding it. It just wasn't a big deal." Dean grabbed the first aid kit. "Okay, Picasso. It's your turn."

Sam sat patiently as Dean ministered to his wounds. Sam's face wasn't as bad as his had been. Dean was more concerned with his foot and made Sam remove his shoe, under protest.

"It's fine, Dean." Sam unlaced his shoe, which was Dean's first clue that it wasn't fine. Sam never unlaced his shoes. He always just kicked them off, laces intact. When Sam removed his sock, Dean could see how swollen and bruised his brother's foot was.

"We need some ice on that." Dean turned toward the car and then cursed under his breath. "I tossed out all the ice to put that damn head in the cooler."

Sam snickered. "I'm pretty sure there's a joke in there somewhere."

Dean tried to look annoyed but failed. He chuckled. "A pretty bad joke. Come on." He put one arm around his brother. "Let's put your foot in the water for a bit. That shit's cold as ice. It should help."

Sam leaned on him as they both hobbled over to the water. Dean helped Sam lower himself to the ground with one foot resting in the stream. Dean plopped down beside him and began tossing small rocks into the running water.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Why didn't you tell me you got bit?"

Dean shrugged. "It wasn't important."

Sam was silent for a few moments and Dean wondered if he could get Cas to take care of Sam's foot while Sam was asleep. Otherwise, he'd have to agree to Cas helping him also and he wasn't about to do that. As if he could read his mind, Sam finally spoke again.

"Why are you so determined to punish yourself, Dean?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Dean skipped a rock across the stream, into the darkness.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Dean gave his brother a sideways glance. "You know, if you wanted to take a swing at me, you could."

"What?" Sam gave him a confused look. "Why would I do that? Dean, what's wrong with you?"

Dean tossed away the rocks he held in his hands and briskly rubbed his face. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"Dean, if you say that one more time maybe I will kick your ass."

Dean nodded toward Sam's foot that was submerged in the water. "Are you going to do it with that foot?"

Sam laughed and Dean grinned. Deflection always was his best defense but Sam wasn't going to let him off the hook that easy tonight. When their laughter subsided, Sam reached over and put his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"What's going on with you, Dean?"

Dean looked away from his brother but he didn't shrug off his hand, although he should. He shouldn't expect comfort of any kind from Sam. He didn't deserve it. Not after the things he had said, the things he had done. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.

"I'm sorry, Sammy."

"For what?"

Dean sighed heavily. "When Charlie died...I said some horrible things to you."

"It wasn't you, Dean." Sam said quietly. "It was the Mark."

"That's no excuse." He didn't want to talk about it. Sam would forgive him and he didn't deserve forgiveness…..not for the things he had said to his brother, Mark or no Mark. What he had said was unforgivable.

"Dean, I know you didn't mean the things you said." Sam squeezed his shoulder. "I'm not gonna lie to you though. What you said hurt like hell but I still knew it wasn't really you. You would never say that to me. I know you."

Dean tried to speak but found he couldn't. Sam squeezed his shoulder one more time and Dean nodded, blinking back tears.

They sat in silence for a moment and then Sam asked, "Could you help me up? I think my foot might be frozen."

Dean gave a small laugh. "Sure thing, bro."

Dean helped Sam hobble back to the picnic table and began packing things up as Sam put his shoe on. As he loaded their stuff into the car he said, "Sammy, I'm beat. I say we just stay here for the night and head out in the morning."

"Don't you want anything to eat?"

"I'm too tired to eat. But if you want something, we can go."

"Nah, I'm good." Sam yawned loudly. "I think I'd be asleep before we got a mile down the road."

Dean helped his brother into the back seat and shut the door before collapsing into a weary heap in the front seat. He fluffed up his jacket, stuffing it under his head.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"I really am sorry."

"You already said that."

"I know but….."

Sam's face appeared over the back of the seat, staring down at him. "My foot has thawed out. Do you want me to kick your ass?"

Dean tossed an empty beer can at his brother's head as Sam ducked into the back seat. As he listened to Sam settling in for the night, he realized a weight had been removed from his shoulders. Rowena had talked about the burden she saw in his eyes and some of that was because of the Darkness and the part he'd played in unleashing it on the world but the biggest burden he'd carried were the things he'd said to Sam, things he knew he could never take back, things that had hurt his brother to the core. But Sam forgave him. Sam always forgave him even if he didn't deserve it.

"Good night, jerk," Sam mumbled sleepily.

"Good night, bitch."

Dean smiled and closed his eyes. As he was drifting off to sleep he realized Sammy had been right…..here in this car with his brother by his side, this was home.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome!**

 **Lyrics are _Home_ by Dierks Bentley.**

 **Also, this fic is for HobbitLover4eva because she requested an apology fic. Sorry it took a while to write. I had to wait until it felt as though it fit into the story.**


End file.
